This week has been intense, crazed and out of control. It was the first time in over a year that I felt the kind of pressure that comes in crisis situations. In one way, I consider that a win, no crises in more than 12 months, in another way, I now realize it has made me soft. On Monday and Tuesday, I felt awake, alert, in control of myself in a way I haven’t felt in a long time, it was revitalizing. Wednesday, I took a personal day to take Crazy to the dentist, again, and it was possibly in the top ten worse experiences as a parent. It winded me. Thursday, I started to feel tired and worn, and by Friday, I was borderline useless.
It was a bad week. One of my colleagues even went so far as to say it was the worst week she has known since working with us. We expected bad, we knew it was coming, we had had an entire week to prepare (insufficient by approximately a month), but what we didn’t expect was for all the other well oiled machines to break down at the same time. The part that still leaves me stunned is that some of us still qualified our week as “not too bad”, “well managed”, and “it could have been so much worse”. (In case that went unnoticed, and I would very much like it to be noticed, I just high-fived myself with the well managed part).
Still reeling from it all, I woke up this morning full of energy, I did laundry, housework and played with the kids; I wasn’t allowed to make lunch though because Hubby told me I don’t make spaghetti with meatballs right, whatever that means. I worked for a solid two hours while our kids “napped” – that is to say, while they stayed in their dark room shooshing each other and laughing.
The day pressed on, the rain kept falling, and I kept moving, while becoming increasingly irritable. I was moving in my tornado fashion when I stepped by my room to hand something to Hubby and then turned back to put our pillows on our bed. The kids had been playing one of their favourite games where we put all the pillows and blankets in the house in a pile on the floor of the living room, then they run down the hallway and jump like madmen onto the pile. Crazy now does flips onto it.
I turned back to my room to throw the pillows on my bed, and I guess I underestimated the size of the doorway by approximately 1 cm, because I slammed my pinky toe full on into the door jam. I heard an unsettling noise and I nearly taught my children a whole new vocabulary, but managed to get control of mouth before it got profane. I did shriek and I dropped to the ground, the pain was indescribable, and I don’t mean strong pain, I mean indescribable. I still can’t quite get a handle on what it felt like, but my eyes watered instantly and I had trouble catching my breathe.
We are pretty sure I broke my toe, but apparently the pinky toe serves no purpose because it is not stopping me from walking, although I did have another of those tear jerking, indescribable pain moments when I crossed my legs a little too quickly and slightly dinged my toe.
So all in all, work was insane, it rained all week, Crazy’s dentist appointment was ass, and now I may or may not have a broken toe. Awesome.